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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090990">trace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkimtired/pseuds/idkimtired'>idkimtired</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>soft songs for soft people [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Lazy Morning, M/M, Song Based, so soft, soft fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:08:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkimtired/pseuds/idkimtired</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>based of the song 'trace' by micah marcos<br/>andrew being soft</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>soft songs for soft people [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>trace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Trace</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew wakes up with a yawn, the open curtains letting in lazy rays of rising sun wander in, tendrils of soft light dancing through the air and warming the small room. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A little outline of your face</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A heavy, warm weight half lies on him and he turns his head to face Neil, eyes still closed, face still soft in sleep, and absentmindedly plays with his hair, bringing his other hand up to push some of the curls away to get a better look at his sleeping boyfriend’s face, half buried into Andrews neck.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the foggy little space, that our breath made</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses a soft kiss to his forehead, inhaling in Neil’s scent, safe and comforting, the other boy’s soft breaths tickling his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At the cornerstone down from your place</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks they might be out of cigarettes. He should go buy some more at the store only seconds away but he doesn't feel like moving away from this moment, even if it feels like a dream, unreal, safe, warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too soon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil stirs, mumbling something too quiet for Andrew to make out, eyes blinking sleepily open and head rising up to see Andrew with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It seems like yesterday was June</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil buries his head back into Andrew’s neck with a groan, the morning light catching his hair and setting it aflame, and Andrew mutters something disconcertable in response, setting his chin on his boyfriend’s head and staring out the window where the tree’s leaves are slowly turning the same colour as his hair, a fiery autumn blend of oranges and reds.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where'd the time go?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The season is starting in a week and he’ll have to leave. Andrew isn't one for morning lost time but he’s sure it's not possible summer is already over.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Makes me wonder if your hair is shorter, mine is longer</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil rolls off him and he moans at the loss of warmth, hand still caught in his boyfriend’s hair, arm unraveling with him to stay locked in the soft curls, unwilling to let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well that's a clue</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil laughs softly and kisses his nose, running fingers through Andrew’s hair as he sits up. Andrew tilts his head into his boyfriend’s hand, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time flies, by with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew watches Neil get up and head to the bathroom, humming off key as goes, wondering where the minutes he was still asleep have slipped away to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I swear the minutes turn to hours in your room</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Time is trapped in a warm slow moment as Neil wanders back, still humming that infernal tune, the world far away and as unreal as a dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna, kiss you, a thousand times</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew pulls Neil back into bed beside him instead of letting him get dressed, his protests cut off when Andrew showers his face with gentle kisses, deliberately tracing the outline of his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before the sunshine switches places with the moon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Neil let's Andrew win, collapsing back into bed when Andrew nips at his ear, fingers absentmindedly tracing Andrew’s stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The moon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew doesn't want the morning to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We waste</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiot,” mumbles Andrew when Neil’s fingers draw a heart on Andrew’s hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So many seconds of the day</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boy just smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Disagreeing, on the movies we'll watch</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil flicks on the sports channel and Andrew confiscates the control from him to change the station but Neil lies on top of him and tries to wrestle it back off him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even though we won't be watching anyway</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew kisses him to get him to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Believe</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses their foreheads together, breathing in and out, eyes closed, trying to savour the moment, the smell, the feel of him against Andrew.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'd rather stay with you than leave</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't want to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But money doesn't grow on trees, if it did</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew isn't a believer, or even an approver, of regret or wishes but he’s going to get them both on the same team, in the same city if it kills him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'll plant an oak, in the yard for you and me</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor does Andrew consider himself the sort to dream of a house and all of that sappy mundane stuff but he’s going to get one for them, he’s going to get them a home, warm and safe, with spare rooms for Nicky and Aaron and even goddamn Kevin to stay in. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So tall, and in the fall</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It'll have a tree with a tire swing, he always wanted one of those.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We'd sing at sappy songs</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew having won the control of the TV, Neil reaches over to his bedside table and turns on his radio but, in flicking to try find a sports report, he lands on some crappy cheesy song that, of course, the insufferable child loves and begins to hum along to. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Raking leaves, into piles past our knees</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew groans and pulls the covers up over his ears to drown the sound out but Neil grabs onto them and tries to drag them away, laughing when Andrew only curls around them protectively, clinging onto the worn sheets with a scowl. This moment won't last forever, Andrew knows, but he’s going to make it last as long as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We'd fill up, pots and pans and a couple garbage cans</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Burying his head into the pillow Neil tries to steal, he does his best to ignore the list of things they have to do today, from the leaves that need raking to the suitcase he needs to pack.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We'd free up the winter</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The flights he needs to book, a guarantee he’ll see Neil again as soon as possible and a promise made to Nicky that they’ll be in Germany for Christmas.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And the summer</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s already trying not to dream of another entire summer with the boy beside him, nine months away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And the spring</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll see him before then, he knows, dozens of mini holidays and weekends stolen at any available moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time flies, by with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But it doesn't feel like enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I swear the minutes turn to hours in your room</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This moment, the two of them lying together in the bed just a little too small for the two of them is lasting a small forever, an entire universe created and growing, but he can also feel it slipping away as the sun climbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna, kiss you, a thousand times</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew lifts his head to pull Neil into him and press a kiss to his hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before the sunshine switches places with the moon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets Neil trace the edge of his lips with his thumb, looking away at what he sees in his eyes, not sure if he can bare it, the vulnerability.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doesn't matter if it snows, if it sleets or if it rains</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He might have admitted to himself, somewhere hidden inside, deep in his chest, the truth of the warmth and safety he feels upon seeing those stupid eyes but that doesn't make seeing it reflected back any easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If it's hot or if it's cold</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil cups his cheek and turns it back to face him and Andrew reluctantly lets him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'mma love you just the same</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Something relaxes in him when Neil brushes their noses and asks quietly, waiting patiently for Andrew’s answer to kiss him. What a wonder that Andrew found someone who understands. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you're near or if you're far</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if they’re a sport obsessed idiot with zero survival instincts who lives far too far away from Andrew.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'll fly to Timbuktu</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn't matter. For once Andrew finds himself believing in a dream, a dream of a house, of a home, of cats and trees and the boy in his bed. For now he can live off stolen moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna spend all of my time loving on you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He would fly across the world to be where he is. Not that he would ever admit it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time flies, by with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's too late for breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's never too late for breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel Neil smile into his cheek. “Ok. Pancakes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I swear the minutes turn to hours in your room</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew nudges him away so he can see his face, committing each line to memory over and over. “Pancakes,” he agrees, “But you're not allowed near the stove.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna, kiss you, a thousand times</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil pouts and something tugs on his stomach. He kisses the expression away, hoping Neil doesn't notice his trembling hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before the sunshine switches places with the moon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It's Neil’s turn to protest when he gets up and Andrew rolls his eyes and drags him into the kitchen after him, secretly pleased when Neil clings to his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, time flies, by with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of pancakes wafts and fills the kitchen and smoke threatens the alarm, a rising cloud that has Neil wrestling the window open to let it escape, as Andrew flips them expertly over in the pan, not above showing off his pancake skills to his amused boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I swear the minutes turn to hours in your room</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This isn't an unusual morning, almost the opposite, it's become near routine over the summer, Andrew ignoring any protest Neil had made at the start regarding their health. But he savours every golden minute, every sun filled second.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna, kiss you, a thousand times</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew wants to stay in this crooked little apartment with his idiot and their pancake-filled routine. Wants to be able to kiss him whenever he wants and hold him without getting on a plane first.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before the sunshine switches places with the moon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But for now he’ll enjoy what he has, making it last as long as he can before he has to go again. For now it's ok that all he has is stolen seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The moon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Because at last Andrew believes it's only a for now, for once he knows he’ll have his dream, things will get better, even if this is the best he’s ever had. For once he has a dream.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>writing that killed me<br/>hope it was worth it :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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